Part Eight
Buffy awoke rested, warm...and with Angel’s arm draped around her waist. She smiled to herself. She had not meant to stay the night, but obviously Angel had not minded. At some point during the night, they had both changed position until her back was to his chest, and he held her very gently in his sleep. It had been so long since she had fallen asleep in his arms – back to just before they broke up. His presence always seemed to make a night that much more comfortable and safe.
Something tickled Buffy’s ear and she started in surprise. Careful not to disturb Angel, her fingers found nothing but her own hair. Still, less than a second after she pulled her hand away, it came again. Buffy froze at the persistence of it.
Breath?
Gently Buffy lifted Angel’s arm from her waist and turned to face him. He slept onward, oblivious of Buffy’s growing shocked wonder. His face was perfectly relaxed in sleep, as if he had none of the concern or centuries of guilt that plagued him in his waking hours. A smile touched his lips, his hair was slightly tousled from sleep, and his naked chest...was rising and falling slowly with each breath he took.
Buffy just stared at him in silence. Though Angel occasionally breathed when he was awake, he didn’t need to, and so in sleep he always lost that habit to seem even more like the dead he was. For a brief moment Buffy wondered if this might have changed in the years since she’d last seen him sleep, seeking any explanation but the one that screamed hopefully and joyfully in her heart.
With a hand that shook slightly, Buffy reached to gently touch Angel’s cheek. He smiled in his sleep, leaning slightly into her touch, and Buffy gasped. Angel had always had some sense of the non-living about him, something that was so him that she’d no longer really noticed it. With his pale, cool skin and his eternal stillness, he was like a beautiful statue that moved and spoke and loved. This...this was warm, and vibrant...and very much alive.
“Angel,” Buffy whispered softly. Her voice was slightly awed.
He stirred but did not wake, smiling even brighter. Buffy felt like she was going to cry from sheer joy and wonder at the moment. And he wasn’t even awake to realize what was going on yet!
“Angel,” she said, still softly but no longer whispering, “please wake up.”
His brow scrunched up slightly in confusion before he opened his eyes. He was still obviously not quite awake, even when his eyes finally opened and he smiled radiantly at Buffy. “You’re still here,” he said a bit fuzzily.
“Yeah,” she managed around a throat that suddenly seemed to tight, “I’m still here.”
He blinked at her, confused. “What’s wrong?” he asked, gradually emerging from the fog of sleep.
Buffy’s voice was barely above a whisper when she managed to speak again. “Nothing’s wrong,” she said.
It was only then that Angel’s mind caught up with the wakefulness of his body and realized that something wasn’t quite normal about the later. He gasped in shock, sat up in bed, then turned back to Buffy, his eyes wide and wild. “Buffy,” he gasped.
She smiled at him, at his dawning realization, and felt one of those tears of joy that had been threatening finally slip its confines to run freely down her cheek.
His smile went wide again, this one eclipsing any that had come before it for sheer joy. “I’m alive,” he said.
Buffy nodded, grinning as well. “I noticed,” she said.
Happiness and shock seemed to be warring for dominance in Angel’s expression. “I didn’t...” he started to say, his expression momentarily confused.
“Well, I certainly didn’t!” Buffy shot back. If Angel didn’t know how this happened, then she hadn’t the faintest clue.
He laughed then, openly and freely. Buffy thought she’d seen him laugh before this, in the hours with his son, but it was nothing compared to this. He flopped back down on the bed, joy obviously winning the war over confusion, his eyes absolutely shining with delight. “I’m alive,” he said again, a bit softer this time.
Buffy opened her mouth to reply, and Angel pulled her to him in a warm, living embrace. He did not kiss her – for all that she found herself wishing he would at the moment – but just held her close, her head resting on his chest. He felt so warm, so different from how she remembered, with his lungs expanding with each breath and his heartbeat echoing in her ear. She wrapped her arms around him, perfectly content to stay right there.
“I didn’t expect this so soon,” he said after a moment.
Buffy tilted her head up to blink at him. “But you did expect it?” she teased.
To her surprise, he nodded. “Eventually,” he said. “We found this prophecy....”
Buffy couldn’t help but laugh slightly at that. “What fun,” she said sarcastically. She and prophecies didn’t have the best history. But then again, for this she just might have to change her opinion.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Angel said hesitantly.
She just smiled at his concern. “You also didn’t tell me about your son,” she reminded him, “and I think that was the bigger deal.”
He nodded slightly. “I just...thought something major would have to happen before...” He gestured vaguely.
“Maybe this is someone’s version of a Christmas present,” Buffy suggested. “After all, it’s happened before.”
Angel chuckled, no doubt remembering as well the bizarre Christmas snow years before that had saved him from the sunlight. “Maybe,” he agreed.
“Though that was kind of a ‘avert disaster’ sort of situation, wasn’t it?” Buffy added thoughtfully.
She felt Angel tense beneath her at those words. “What is it?” she asked worriedly.
He laughed slightly. “I have the horrible/wonderful feeling this might have been one of those situations, too.”
Buffy was at a complete loss. “What are you talking about?”
Angel smiled down at her and squeezed her shoulders lightly. “Just that, looking back to last night, there is a very real possibility my soul was at risk.”
Buffy propped herself up on her elbow to look him in the face. “What in the world do you mean?” she asked. “I mean, we didn’t do anything....”
“We didn’t have to,” Angel said. “Connor was here, with his unconditional love and trust, and you were here...and there was hope, Buffy. I had real hope. Not of anything in particular, but last night, when I went to sleep...I wasn’t thinking about what I am, or what I’ve done. I was only thinking about how lucky I was.”
Buffy could not stop herself from smiling vibrantly at his words. If she kept this up, her cheeks were going to ache. “What you were,” she said.
“Hmm?”
“You said what I am. You mean what you were,” she clarified.
Angel gave a small laugh. “I guess you’re right,” he agreed.
Buffy just kept right on smiling at him. “Merry Christmas, Angel,” she said.
He returned it with a new gleam in his eyes. “Merry Christmas,” he said, and pulled her back towards him for a kiss.
“Merry Christmas!”
The bed bobbed for a second as the three-year-old jumped into the fray. Grinning from ear to ear, Angel pulled away from Buffy to grab his son and pull him up towards the head of the bed between them. He tickled Connor until the boy was chortling so hard he was having trouble breathing. “And a merry Christmas to you, rascal,” he said. He stopped and smiled at his son. “And what are you doing up so early?”
“Presents!” Connor declared.
“Mmm, well...I don’t know....”
Connor wasn’t buying into Angel’s teasing. The stern look he gave his father was so like Angel that Buffy could barely contain her laughter. “Daddy,” he said.
Angel grinned. “We’re up,” he said, “we’re coming.”
Angel stood beside the bed, barefoot and shirtless, and Buffy climbed out from under the covers a moment later. Connor stood on the bed, his arms out to his father, obviously expecting to be picked up. Angel complied without hesitation.
Connor made himself comfortable in Angel’s arms...and then he pulled away a bit with his face scrunched up in confusion. “You feel funny,” he said.
This time Angel did laugh. “Here,” he said after a moment. “I have something to show you.”
He carried the boy into the bathroom, Buffy following close behind them. There, he stood for a moment in front of the mirror, now showing both of their reflections. It was the first time Connor had seen it. “I’m not floating,” he said.
Angel was smiling so wondrously then. It was like seeing his reflection had confirmed that this morning’s surprise wasn’t just a vivid dream. “No,” he said, sounding a bit in awe of the whole set of events, “you’re not floating.”
He sat Connor on the counter then and looked at him seriously. “Some other things have changed, too,” he did his best to explain to the small boy. “I can go outside to play with you now. And I’ll have breakfast, lunch, and dinner with you, too. But on the other hand, no more monster face.”
Connor looked very thoughtful at that, as if weighing everything and deciding if he was really getting the better deal. It was so adorable Buffy had to smile. “But will you still keep the bad monsters away?” he asked after a moment.
Angel straightened slightly. Buffy could see that he was thinking about everything from that morning, thinking about how he felt and whether he still had what advantages he needed. At last he smiled and looked at his son again. “Yes,” he declared, “I can still keep the monsters away.”
Remembering their talk from the night before, another thrill of joy went through Buffy’s heart. “Just what you always wanted,” she said softly.
Angel turned and smiled at her. “Almost,” he agreed. His eyes spoke of what else he wanted; what neither of them was ready for and would have to wait.
But there was a chance now. A chance that they really could try for something more and not have an automatic overdose of heartbreak to go with it. So Buffy just met his smile and let him see that she, too, had hope for the future.
Through this, Connor was still thinking. Buffy wondered if he even understood how momentous the occasion was. “Okay,” he said at last.
“Okay?” Angel asked gently.
Connor nodded with a grin and held his arms out to his father again. Angel lifted him as easily as he ever had, and the toddler held him tightly, enjoying that new warmth just as Buffy had earlier. “Let’s open presents outside!” he declared after a moment.
Angel was already carrying him down the hallway, and Buffy fell into step beside them. Thinking of the cleanup that would be required afterwards – and the fact that neither of the men was dressed and she didn’t have her shoes – she said, “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
Angel shot her a look that said how much he couldn’t wait to go outside, either. And she so desperately wanted to see him there, a place where she had only seen him in her dreams.
“Pwease?” Connor asked again.
Angel smiled tolerantly at his son. “Only a couple,” he said as they reached the bottom of the stairs.
Connor squirmed then to be released, and Angel put him down. As the boy went to the Christmas tree to carefully pick out which presents were going to come outside, Angel turned his attention to Buffy. His smile was warm and open, as was his hand that he held out to her. Buffy smiled back and took what was offered there. She’d never been so aware of how life felt when it was pressed palm to palm.
Presents in hand, Connor was already waiting impatiently for them at the french doors to the courtyard. “Come on!” he said eagerly.
Buffy and Angel followed him, still hand in hand. They opened the doors as one, watching as Connor ran down the couple of stairs and into the sunlight.
“Come on, Daddy,” he said once his presents were scattered around him.
Angel hesitated on the very edge of the sunlight. Buffy squeezed his hand in reassurance, and he turned a hesitant smile to her. She could see him take a deep breath before taking that last step out into the full light of day...and then turn a smile on her that made her think of nothing but a little boy on Christmas who suddenly discovered he’d received a gift that was far better from anything he’d even thought to hope for. A life-changing gift.
Buffy could only wonder that she was there to share that moment with him.
“Daddy,” Connor said impatiently, being a very real little boy at Christmas whose presents were being delayed.
Their attention turned to Connor, but never once were Buffy nor Angel unaware of the other. As they watched the toddler who had brought them back together tear into presents with all of the enthusiasm of his age, and thought of all the moments like this they hoped to have in the future, beyond the hotel a radio played Christmas carols just loud enough to be heard. And as the words made themselves known to Buffy’s ears, she couldn’t help but feel how appropriate they were...
“Good tidings to you, to you and your kin.
We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year...”
The End!
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